January
by lillialyce
Summary: Oneshot. Circus AU. Lovino keeps telling Antonio that there is more to their Ringleader than meets the eye. Antonio isn't sure what to believe.


"Not _again_, you stupid bastard!"

Antonio stops sweeping the pathway to watch as Lovino shouts another curse at the Ringleader. It is expected behavior at this point. It has become ritual for Lovino to misbehave around their leader, and Antonio can't help but feel disgusted with that attitude, especially to the man who saved them all. They owe so much to the Ringleader, and Lovino's fourteen-year-old mind cannot even fathom it.

And hadn't a doctor said that Lovino was paranoid? Lovino needed to stop; he was only hurting himself—

"_You've heard about it, haven't you?" Lovino whispers. "Children are being found with amputated limbs and missing body parts and, fuck, the b—"_

"_Heard about what?" Antonio interrupts, cheerful despite the mood Lovino has created. He has a tendency to ignore everything Lovino tries to bring up in conversation when it pertains to the Ringleader's achievements because Lovino's hatred is so noticeable, even to him._

_Lovino huffs. "I think I saw Gupta the other day," he says instead, shifting his gaze to meet Antonio's eyes. "He was watching one of the shows with some freaky bastard."_

_Antonio's smile dims a little. "So Gupta really did run away. . . Aww, the Ringleader'll be so sad."_

"_The Ringleader was talking with the guy Gupta was with a couple times before Gupta left. Some weird shit is happening here, dumbass. We should be careful." Lovino frowns, correcting himself with a "N-not that I care if _you_'re taken. Just. . . the others. . ."_

"_You can't say the Ringleader is the cause of _all_ the problems here."_

_Antonio stretches his arms. Lovino is a chronic liar, and everyone knows it. Lovino has claimed to have nonexistent diseases and has claimed that people have hurt his brother. He's claimed the Ringleader is a murderer and claimed that the performers who leave their circus are forced by the Ringleader. He enjoys weaving these stories for attention, and Antonio is sucked into the lies every time._

_He doesn't know why Lovino attracts him the way that he does, but he refuses to take it._

"_But—"_

_Antonio shakes his head. "Don't forget where you'd be without him. You shouldn't blame him for social issues that he doesn't have anything to do with."_

"_Dammit, you don't _get_ it. The people who are being found look a lot like—"_

"_The people who leave are kind of like you, Lovino." Antonio smiles, trying to change the subject. "They probably just complain all the time and eventually just want to go somewhere else. You can do that, too, but it would make me sad. You're too cute! So you should stop complaining and stay here with me!"_

_Lovino just stares at him, face red._

—Antonio forces the memory away.

The last of their audience has cleared the area, and now there is no one in the large performance tent. Someone will take it down before the sun is set, but after such a difficult, popular show, some are resting. Most have started their assignments.

Because of the performance, they are all still wearing their costumes, not having had enough time to change before jumping right into their chores. Antonio is still wearing his mask, his limbs sore from the staged fights they execute for him.

His job is to dance, almost, jumping from area to area as he dodges whatever trained animal they bring to the arena. The movements are constricted by his clothes, which are a little tight because he grows rather quickly for someone his age. And there's also the fact that some people enjoy seeing him in slight discomfort.

Lovino is probably one of those people.

Antonio notices that Lovino is still wearing his jeweled dress, the outfit designed to give him and his brother the youthful, almost feminine appearance many audiences seem to want. The Ringleader always tries to exceed expectations, and, as Lovino's dress sparkles, Antonio notes that the Ringleader succeeds at whatever he does.

"Get off me, dammit!" Lovino screeches, trying and failing to pull out of the grasp tightening around his arms. The Ringleader's hold on Lovino strengthens. "Fuck off!"

Antonio is drawn back to reality, away from the image of the two brothers on the tightrope that had been taking over his mind again. The short skirt Lovino wears flies around him, and Antonio tries to pry his eyes away but doesn't.

Lovino is just a child, small and weak and useless, and while he thrashes—and his skirt rises again, and Antonio understands why the Ringleader makes the brothers wear these dresses now—there is a calm air of the knowledge of the outcome.

"Let _go_!"

Tugged forward by the Ringleader, Lovino's feet dig into the dirt as he tries to pull back. The hand wrapped around his wrist is bruising it, and, from Antonio's view, it seems as though Lovino's wrist will snap at any second. He hasn't realized that his hold on the broom has tightened, and he almost drops it in surprise. _Stop watching_, he tells himself, for it is not his business. He doesn't stop; he can't stop.

"Don't _touch_ me! I told everyone; you fucking wait! If I disappear after everything I've warned about you. . ."

Some part of him wonders if their leader _will_ break Lovino's wrist for his misconduct, but he knows that the Ringleader is unusually patient. The Ringleader is kind and welcoming to everyone. Watching the scuffle, Antonio knows fully well that he is not going to stand up to the Ringleader when Lovino has been scolded countless times before.

Whatever happens, Lovino's had it coming for a long time—

"_The Ringleader says he wants you to wash the dishes, Lovino!" Antonio calls, stopping his collection of the soiled linens and clothes to make sure Lovino has heard. "They're all near the basin, okay?"_

_Lovino is scowling in his seat, watching Feliciano from a distance. His arms are crossed and he's pouting, and Antonio simply stands to watch Lovino as he watches Feliciano. Antonio just can't help himself sometimes, when he finds the need to observe many of Lovino's movements._

"_Hello-_oh_? Lovino?" Antonio tries to stop staring at Lovino, but he can't. "Did you hear me?"_

"_Don't want to," Lovino says, not even moving from his spot. Antonio isn't sure if this means Lovino doesn't want to hear Antonio or he doesn't want to do his chores. Lovino's eyes flick to Antonio's for a moment, and Antonio freezes. An odd, unrecognizable feeling bubbles in his chest and tingles through the rest of his body._

_Lovino has pretty brown eyes. Antonio hadn't realized it before._

"_B-but the Ringleader says. . ." He stares at Lovino's expression, trying to remember what he means to say. He finds that, for a few minutes, he is speechless. "The dishes," he remembers. "He needs you to wash the dishes."_

_Lovino rolls his eyes. "Let the bastard do them himself, dammit."_

"_He's not a bastard," Antonio says quietly. He's heard Lovino curse out the Ringleader before, but he's never been the one Lovino complains to. The change is significant. "He saved us, Lovino. He saved you and your brother."_

"_And what do we get in exchange?" He sits up a little, straightening so he's staring properly into Antonio's eyes. Lovino's cheeks are slightly pink. "We get shit." _

"_That's not true," Antonio insists, and he feels his fists clench. Sometimes he thinks he would like Lovino so much more if the boy would just keep his mouth shut. If Lovino can't talk, Antonio imagines the entire circus would run more smoothly._

_He wonders if the Ringleader feels the same way; there have been a couple hints. And the Ringleader might call in a doctor to see Lovino, soon. Antonio isn't supposed to tell, so he won't, but he hears that it's not a regular doctor that's coming in to see Lovino._

_Antonio's been trying to hint to Lovino to stop spreading these lies because he doesn't want to lose Lovino, but if the doctor thinks that Lovino has a mental problem, Antonio knows he'll have to let go._

_He doesn't want to let go. Lovino has grown on him more than he wants to admit._

"_You don't remember life outside of this hellhole," Lovino says in a low tone. "If you have that taste of freedom again, you'll understand."_

_Antonio doesn't think this is the truth and says so. He hopes Lovino understands._

_Lovino glares at him. "Dammit, the Ringleader makes you work for _nothing_!" Antonio is about to protest when Lovino continues, "Yeah, he gives you food, but you don't even realize what you're giving up! When was the last time you made your own decis—"_

_There is a looming presence behind them, a dark shadow, and Antonio and Lovino both turn to look at the culprit. "Hello, everyone." The Ringleader smiles brightly at Antonio, but something unreadable is behind his gaze when he looks at Lovino. "I trust everything is well here."_

_Lovino leans back, though he still looks discomfited._

"_You're doing your assigned chores?" he prods, glancing at Antonio, who shifts under his gaze. Antonio knows he is innocent, but he always feels like he needs to blurt out the truth about everything whenever the Ringleader looks at him like that. He flushes, and the Ringleader's tone changes. "Antonio?"_

_Lovino looks from the Ringleader to Antonio, then back again. Something appears to click in his head—Antonio can't tell what he's thinking, once again—and he frowns. "Fuck you, asshole!"_

_Antonio gasps. "Lovino!"_

_The Ringleaders appears to understand Lovino's thought process (and Antonio wonders how that is possible, for it is _Antonio_ who is Lovino's only friend, Lovino's only confidant), and he smiles gently. "Wash the dishes, Lovino."_

"_Rot in hell, bastard." The Ringleader shakes his head, turning on his heel and starting in a different direction from which he'd come. "Go near my brother, too," Lovino calls after him, "and I'll fucking _kill_ you!" He is absolutely furious, standing up, red-faced, and clenching his fists._

"_That's not nice," Antonio murmurs, when it is just the two of them again._

_The image of the Ringleader's retreating back is imprinted in his mind. He doesn't understand Lovino because the Ringleader is so good to them all. The possibility that the Ringleader might have to let go of Lovino is not a pleasant one._

"_Yeah, well," Lovino starts walking toward his tent, obviously not going to wash the dishes, _again_, "your _precious_ leader isn't nice, either."_

—"Let _go_!" jars Antonio from his thoughts. "Fuck you!"

Their gazes meet as Lovino is being dragged away, struggling, but not as strongly as before. His eyes are accusing—and screaming to Antonio: _see, l__ook, _look_, I was fucking right_—and something cold sweeps through Antonio's body.

For a brief second, he almost worries that everything Lovino has been saying is true, and he worries that he will never see Lovino again.

Then he shoves the thought aside. It is ridiculous. Lovino is a chronic liar (and he's mentally unstable, according to the doctor who came in, but the Ringleader is nice enough to want to try and fix Lovino), and no one will take Lovino when his cute little brother is innocently sleeping a couple tents away.

The opening of the Ringleader's own tent flutters closed, and, after a short pause, there is a scream.

Antonio is surprised by how scared and childlike Lovino sounds. There is a soothing hum, their leader's singing, and then, a silence.

He can't rid himself of the chilling feeling overcoming him, clawing at his stomach and gnawing at his skin—and Lovino's eyes are burning into his vision; it has to stop because it is not his fault, and nothing _bad_ can happen because nothing bad _ever_ happens, not when the Ringleader is around—but he pushes it aside and goes back to his chore.

The Ringleader is too kind to be anything like Lovino says. And Lovino is a liar. A liar. A liar. A _liar_.

Lovino isn't safe to be around. He brings trouble.

The only reason the Ringleader is keeping him is because Lovino needs people to care for him in the way an asylum can't.

He sweeps the grounds clean of the rotting garbage from their rightfully successful performance. It was filled with more people than usual because of the new year; a beautiful show always sets of the year properly.

Antonio's mind wanders, as it always does, to his fantasy world where he did not need to join the circus—and a part of him feels guilt for not considering the Ringleader's feelings, but it is just imagination, so it's okay, isn't it?—and he has never killed anyone and he is free and young and happy. Remembering Lovino's words, Antonio realizes that _yes_, he would like to know the possibilities of his fantasy world.

But unlike Lovino, Antonio doesn't voice these thoughts. There is nothing wrong with the way he lives now. What he is feeling is curiosity. There are moments where he feels constricted, but those can easily be overlooked when he considers the past and the more depressing odds of life without the circus. He pushes these thoughts aside.

His gaze slides back to the tent again, and he's tempted to take a peek inside. He tells himself that he hasn't been sweeping slowly in order to see Lovino leave the tent safe and unharmed.

The winter air is cool and the sun's light has long left the sky when the Ringleader finally exits, beckoning to Antonio as he yanks a limp figure from his quarters.

"Antonio."

Antonio rushes over to the tent immediately, dropping his broom when he gets there when he realizes that he'll need his arms to do what the Ringleader is asking.

The Ringleader thrusts the unconscious boy toward Antonio. Lovino is draped on Antonio like one of his costume's capes, his breathing calm and his body warm. Antonio can't figure out what happened.

Even in the darkness, though, Antonio can see the smirk on the Ringleader's face. His teeth glint and he jerks his head forward and murmurs, "Take him back to his bed. He must be tired."

He doesn't say what went on for the hour or so that he and Lovino were in the tent, so Antonio finds no need to ask. It's rude to ask personal questions to someone who saved him, saved them all, and Antonio's been warned about Lovino countless times.

The Ringleader nods and smiles, seeming to understand Antonio's thought process.

Antonio leaves his broom behind and tries to support Lovino's weight. He's only walked a few steps when he hears the Ringleader retreat back to his abode. He's only walked a minute when he stumbles to the ground. The body of an unconscious person always feels heavier than one who is awake. Antonio has had a surprising amount of experience in that field.

Sitting there for a moment, struggling to try to carry Lovino, he surrenders. Their five year age difference apparently does not give him enough strength to take Lovino back to his tent, though he supposes he's just very distracted and can't focus enough on the task at hand.

"Lovino?" Antonio prods, shaking him by his shoulders rather roughly.

A brief second shows him guilt, for Lovino is still a child, a fourteen-year-old _child_, but another moment gives Antonio clearer vision, and he remembers how rude and bratty Lovino really is. _He wouldn't be as annoying if he was quiet_, Antonio thinks for a moment, but then he decides it is not true, for he somewhat likes Lovino's voice, husky and deep, which doesn't appear to match his little body.

And despite how much Lovino curses when he talks, and how many lies spur from Lovino's mouth, Antonio doesn't _really_ want to give that up.

He shakes Lovino harder, digging his fingers deeper.

When nothing happens, he shifts Lovino in his arms a little. His hands brush against Lovino's bare skin. He is soft, and Antonio stops moving to simply stare. Dazed, almost, as the moonlight makes Lovino's dress sparkle, he rubs his thumb against Lovino's calf. He feels Lovino shiver and so he lets the rest of his fingers run across Lovino's leg.

His hand shifts a little higher, to rest on the hot skin of Lovino's thigh. Then he sits still, calmed enough to make himself lose track of time, remembering—

"_Do you remember Alfred?"_

_Lovino's voice jolts Antonio out of his daydream, which, to be fair, he shouldn't have been having. Antonio is startled enough to loosen his hold on Lovino's waist, and the two flail a little before Antonio grabs him and they are steady again._

"_What about him?" He tries to be nonchalant, but his grip on Lovino is bruising now, and he can feel Lovino trying to pull away. Lovino is eleven; Antonio is sixteen._

_Alfred had been a newcomer, one of the many children the Ringleader sporadically appeared with. He hadn't been crying when he'd come, unlike Lovino and Feliciano, and, after settling in, he'd run around the camp trying to be everyone's savior._

_Lovino manages to get Antonio's grip to loosen a little, and they start moving forward on the tightrope, centimeters at a time. "Where did he go?"_

"_I don't know," Antonio lies. He remembers, the day before Alfred disappeared from the circus entirely, that Alfred had walked into the Ringleader's tent. He's sure that the Ringleader allowed Alfred to quit._

_The Ringleader tells Antonio, every time, that Lovino is making stories out of nothing. The doctor said Lovino enjoyed lying for the attention but that he also believed in the stories he created._

_Antonio doesn't know why he's the one the Ringleader trusts most, but he accepts it._

"_I bet the Ringleader bastard did something." Lovino stops moving and makes Antonio run into him. They both stumble some more, before Lovino steadies Antonio this time. "I was talking to Alfred before that bastard called him away," he adds._

_Antonio shakes his head. "Maybe the Ringleader just—"_

"_You don't know __anything__, Antonio!" Lovino screeches, spinning around and almost losing his balance. "You don't know what the bastard's name is, or why he took all of us in, or _anything_! He just gives you food and clothes and shelter and suddenly that makes everything fucking okay."_

_Frowning, Antonio grabs Lovino's shoulders and spins him around so he's facing forward again._

"_This isn't the first time!" Lovino insists. "Do you remember Ivan or Sadiq? They _disappeared_, dammit! That bastard got fucking _tired_ of them!"_

"_Keep walking."_

_He rarely gets mad, but Lovino is trying his patience again and again, as of late. Lovino's lies are wearing him down, and, much as he likes the boy, he's beginning to think a friendship between them isn't worth it._

_The lies Lovino tells, the stories he makes, does he understand how horrible he makes the others feel when he announces them? Does he realize that he's ruining another man's reputation?_

"_I'd like to see you survive without the Ringleader in your life. You couldn't take care of your brother." Antonio's voice is teetering on spiteful. "You don't know what happened to Alfred. For all we know, he ran away. You can't blame the Ringleader for everything." Lovino's about to protest, Antonio can tell, but he gets his words out first, "Stop being a _brat_ and just do what the Ringleader tells you."_

"Goddammit_, you don't understand!" Lovino tries to turn around again, but Antonio's hold is tight around his arms. Antonio shivers. "Fuck. Bastard, don't tell me he also to—"_

"_How's your tightrope walking coming along?"_

_Lovino goes positively rigid, his breathing erratic, and Antonio's grip around him loosens. Is Lovino legitimately _afraid_?_

"_He's fine," Antonio replies after a while, when it appears Lovino will not answer. He wonders how much of their conversation the Ringleader has heard._

"_Good. Keep practicing, then. Your walk looks unprofessional, Lovino. Maybe you can get your brother's help, too." The Ringleader turns, cloak whirling around him as the _click-click-click _of his boots against the ground fades into the distance._

"_You heard the boss!" Antonio says cheerfully, settling his fingers back on Lovino's waist. His face feels warm, and his heart rate picks up just a little. "Time to get walking."_

_Lovino walks fine for a couple minutes, but when they are merely three steps from the end of the rope, he stumbles, and the pair crashes into the safety net below._

—Lovino mumbles, shifting so Antonio's hand is no longer where it was before. "Mmm. . ." Antonio is forced out of his daze.

He's annoyed with himself for getting distracted, and for something as unnecessary as this.

Antonio shakes Lovino again, the harshness of his grip rather shocking, considering how gentle he usually is, especially when it comes to those younger than him. He wonders if his own grip will cause Lovino bruises instead of the Ringleader's hold on him earlier.

Through the hazy curtain of the darkness, he can see Lovino's eyes flutter open as he shifts around to sit properly—he can feel Lovino's bare skin again; it's not right—and he prepares himself for the usual barrage of insults that always come with the fourteen-year-old.

He doesn't receive them.

Instead, there is a panicked squeal, and Lovino grabs at Antonio's arm, hard, ignoring Antonio's wince in the dark. His grip hurts, but Antonio tries to ignore it and instead focuses on the wide, round eyes of the frightened child. Because, despite Lovino's usual demeanor and how much he and Antonio want to believe he is older (and there are many, many times where Antonio tells himself that Lovino is older), Lovino is still a child.

"Lovino?" Antonio tries his best to focus his gaze. "Lovino?"

Lovino wails some more, his voice rising but no coherent words escaping his lips, and he digs his hands into Antonio's arm and yanks frantically.

"_What_?" Antonio demands. He's annoyed more than worried, though he feels justified. Somewhere in the distance, he hears the Ringleader's footsteps—his boots have always had that distinct clinking noise against the dirt ground—and he feels relieved.

"Do you need help, Antonio?" The Ringleader's voice is light, and, though a little unsettling, an odd comfort.

Antonio feels the frenzied jerking from Lovino's hands, and he turns his gaze away from the Ringleader to face Lovino. The whites of his eyes are prominent, but he cannot read the emotion coming from them. He never can.

It is then that he decides that something is odd. He squints, brushing his fingers against Lovino's cheek. It could have been tears he'd just felt, but he isn't sure. It makes him frown.

The Ringleader clucks his tongue. "Are you unable to do this simple task for me?"

"Lovino?" he whispers.

The Ringleader chuckles. "Please take him back to his tent." His tone is kind, protective. "I expect you both up and ready tomorrow. Lovino needs to practice his walk and you can work a little more on your dodging. A little more graceful, perhaps? I'll show you what I mean tomorrow, if you'd like."

"Yes, sir. Of course," Antonio agrees, a small smile gracing his lips as fondness and admiration and awe seep into his voice.

It is the Ringleader who saved him, provided him with shelter. It is the Ringleader who brought him from the wrath, and Antonio can never repay him for it.

If not for the Ringleader, Antonio would still live on the streets, slinking at the corners, his clothes bloodied and torn, his gaze red. He would still be killing. The memories fill his body with hate, and he pushes them away, pushes the red away from himself.

He needed to survive. He keeps telling himself that: he needed to survive.

Most of the Ringleader's performers are children from the streets. Antonio was surprised when he first heard the stories from his _friends_—despite the fact that they all work together, they rarely associate with one another, except for him and Lovino and maybe a few others—but slowly grew to appreciate the kindness of the Ringleader. Not many people offer security and nourishment and comfort and care, especially to people, to _children_, who have stolen and killed.

"Thank you."

The Ringleader turns, but not without giving a soft smile to Antonio, the one smile reserved only for him. Antonio flushes a little, as he always does when he receives that smile.

He watches the Ringleader fade away for a moment longer before standing up and hoisting Lovino to his feet. Lovino moans again, and Antonio tries to push away his exasperation—or however this feeling is described, since he isn't sure.

His arm feels cold without Lovino's grip, and how he feels reminds him of an occurrence not too long before—

"_You know, for all the complaining you do, you're the one who does the least."_

_Lovino glares at Antonio, who's said this all casually, as though it is common knowledge. And it is. "So? I do enough work for this bastard. He gets enough money from me prancing around in a fucking _skirt_."_

_Antonio lets out a breath. His impatience with Lovino has been bubbling all day, and he's just about had it. Lovino needs to stop saying these things. No one but he and the Ringleader know about what the doctor said about Lovino._

"_Stop accusing him of doing things that can't possibly _happen_," he snaps, eyes narrowing and fists clenching. Lovino recoils. "You don't have _proof_, and you're making yourself look like an immature _brat_ who just can't accept when someone else has to instruct you. Your stupid 'conspiracy theories' don't make _sense_. Damn it, Lovino, we're all getting fed up with you! You don't do anything around here, and the Ringleader still always pays attention to _you_."_

_Lovino parts his lips to speak, but Antonio's not finished. In the distance, he can see the Ringleader talking to someone with a blood red cloak. This stranger's hand is on Francis's shoulder._

"_I try to listen to what you're saying, but you're unrealistic. The Ringleader can't hurt anyone. He gives you a place to stay. Your brother _adores_ him. Why can't you just accept that? If you're going to keep complaining, just _leave_. You haven't been doing much anyway."_

_Lovino's lower lip trembles._

_Antonio takes deep breaths, surprised and instantly guilty when he sees Lovino's eyes water and his hands shake. His heart aches, and he wants to apologize, even though everything he said was true and a part of him feels that Lovino needed to hear it._

_But, maybe he could have said it differently. Lovino's just a kid, and Antonio's the only person he talks to, the only person he looks up to._

"_Lovino. . ."_

"_Asshole!" Lovino starts running for his tent._

_In the background, Francis, the Ringleader, and the stranger start walking away. Antonio stands in place for a second as guilt claws its way through his stomach, and then he chases after Lovino._

—He hates remembering that he lost his temper because it reminds him of how he acted before the Ringleader saved him. Lovino is the only person who has ever caused him this much frustration.

They begin walking, but their pace is slow. Antonio feels as though he should say something but cannot find the proper words. Lovino walks in front of him, and he traces the boy's figure with his eyes, using the dress's sparkles as a way to keep an eye on him.

It is cold, and the wind ruffles their clothes enough to make Antonio crave the safety of their sleeping tents. He wants to make Lovino walk faster, but he doesn't know how to phrase the command without being yelled at.

Lovino hasn't spent a single day without yelling at someone, and it usually feels as though he yells at Antonio the most, because they are near each other most of the time.

_If he was quiet. . ._ Antonio's mind supplies again, and he forces the thought back.

After a significant silence between them, all of it awkward and uncomfortable, Antonio comments, "You should be nicer to him, you know." Lovino's lack of response makes Antonio wonder whether his statement was understandable. "The Ringleader," he adds, specifies. "He saved you and your brother from the streets. All he wants is for you to listen to him sometimes."

Lovino grumbles.

"I remember how he found you two. Feliciano was crying, begging for his help, do you remember? And though you won't admit it, you were eager to join this circus. You were desperate to find food because you wanted to live, too."

Lovino's silence spurs on Antonio's thoughts, and then Antonio can't stop himself from thinking—

_The Ringleader and the doctor are right about Lovino. He's paranoid, suspicious, unsafe. Antonio's heart hammers, but he can't move away from Lovino. "You shouldn't be looking through his things," he whispers._

"_Shut up," Lovino snaps, turning his head to glare at Antonio. His hands don't stop digging through the trunk set on the ground, and he doesn't move from his position, kneeling by it. "You want to know what happened to that perverted bastard Francis, right?"_

_Antonio is silent for a moment, remembering his friend and how, one day, Francis was gone. Nothing had seemed unusual the day before—though it can be argued that Antonio is not a reliable source for this—except that maybe Francis was really good at his performance. But that wasn't really out of the ordinary. Everyone excels at what they do._

"_The Ringleader could be back any second," Antonio warns, but it isn't a rejection of Lovino's actions, and they both know it. Lovino looks smug._

"_I just need to look for pictures or papers or something. The bastard probably keeps track of the horrible perverted things he does to everyone."_

"_Lovino!" Antonio gasps, kneeling down beside him. He always knew that Lovino thought little of the Ringleader and spread rumors about his fictional misdeeds, but Antonio has never realized that Lovino is desperately eager to find _proof_ about his fictitious accounts__. "That's not very nice!"_

_Lovino's face is slightly pink. "You're an idiot, so you don't see it. But that bastard has to be gaining _something_ from having us here, other than the profits from the performances. And aren't you suspicious that people are disappearing when someone in the audience is interested? And then _stuff_ is happening outside this circus. . ."_

_Antonio's honestly surprised that, lazy as Lovino is, he's willing to put in effort to dirty another person's good name._

"_What do you mean?"_

_Lovino stops digging through the chest to look at Antonio. He lowers his voice. "Fuck, it's like. . . Arthur, you remember him? Before he 'left,' this weird hooded person kept talking about Arthur's eyes. Our bastard of a Ringleader kept nodding and then—"_

"_You're so suspicious of _everything_, Lovino," Antonio laughs, placing a hand on Lovino's shoulder. Lovino slaps Antonio's hand away, face bright red and angry._

"_Dammit, this is why I can't talk to you, you fucking _jerk_!" Lovino's voice cracks. "You don't _understand_!"_

_Antonio shakes his head quickly. He almost blurts out what the doctor said, but he doesn't. "It's just. . . You've always been really mean to the Ringleader. Are you sure you aren't imagining everything because you want an excuse? You used to make things up about Ludwig."_

_Lovino clenches his fists and turns away. "That bastard fucking deserved it."_

—"All you have to do is perform, and you get food and a place to sleep. You never have to worry because it's like you have a father or a big brother watching you," Antonio says, forcing himself from getting lost in memories.

He decides to interpret Lovino's slowed pace as a sign that Lovino is listening, though there is no reply. Instead, there is the sound of crickets chirping. Antonio suddenly finds the silence unnerving, a contradiction from his earlier thoughts.

Antonio rambles for the rest of the walk, but Lovino remains stubborn in his silence.

Finally, they make their way into Lovino's tent, where the soft sounds of Feliciano's snoring ease Antonio to relaxation. He finds that he wasn't even aware of this tension, this discomfort.

"It's safe here," Antonio finishes, quoting the Ringleader from the day he'd been found. It had been the start of his new life, the beginning of something new. He's gotten a new perspective on people, the world, _everything_. It felt like it had only been a short while after that when Lovino was introduced to the circus.

He pulls a candle from the trunk set to the side of the tent, squinting hard to make sure he doesn't make anything fall over. Pulling a match from his pocket, he directs a smile in Lovino's direction even though he knows Lovino can't see him. Disappointed because of the lack of response, he strikes the match.

The thick black threads gluing Lovino's mouth closed are dirty with dried blood. It appears as though Lovino's face has been wiped free of some old stains. Smudges dust his cheeks, cleaned in certain areas by. . . Antonio hopes it wasn't by tears.

Antonio stares, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to process exactly what he is seeing.

It can't be right, and he's tempted to put out the candle and relight it, just so his mind will stop playing tricks on him.

But no. It is black thread. Lovino's mouth—always ready to insult and express his thoughts (not all, but most)—is fastened closed with _thick_, _black thread_.

Antonio's mind flashes back to the Ringleader, but his eyes cannot leave the child's lips. Illuminated by the weak flame of the candle, the thread is the most prominent feature of Lovino's face now—no longer his eyes, which Antonio admits he has stared at for long periods of time. The crooked stitch, the trembling body, the silence, Antonio takes it all in at once.

Someone _sewed Lovino's mouth shut_.

"Lovino. . ." he whispers, but he isn't sure his voice is heard.

Antonio doesn't like where this is going. Lovino can't have been telling the _truth_ this whole time. He can't have been. Because that means that. . . It means the Ringleader. . . It just can't be.

The doctor said so. The doctor, right in front of Antonio, said that Lovino was unstable. Lovino created stories in his head that he believed were true. Lovino lived in his own world. Lovino shared his lies because he wanted attention from the people who didn't share his perspective. Lovino wanted _Antonio's_ attention.

The doctor _said_ so.

Lovino whimpers, and all Antonio can hear is the quiet chuckle of their Ringleader. The slight movement of Lovino's mouth upsets the uneven thread, and a couple droplets of blood begin to leak. Antonio shifts his gaze downward, back to the shining ruffles of Lovino's skirt, _anything_ just so he isn't looking at the ugly disgusting horrible black thread.

"You're completely safe here," the Ringleader had said. _Safe_.

With the light of the match, he is brought sudden distrust. He can't stop shivering, can't stop shaking. His mind is racing too fast, his thoughts too jumbled to make sense. Lovino stares at him, and he stares at Lovino.

He can almost hear the Ringleader's laugh in the distance.


End file.
